


With These Scars

by brebanana93



Category: Dark Knight (2008), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: (Very) Minor Character Death, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Angst, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, Knives, M/M, Marking, Minor Violence, Possessive Behavior, Romance, Some verbal abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1557953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brebanana93/pseuds/brebanana93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was absolutely terrified. Even being captured by Bane’s men in the sewers of Gotham couldn’t compare to this moment. Bane was truly a master of deception, all power and brilliance. But the Joker was a cold-blooded killer. His ability to manipulate and pick people apart only to watch them crumble was more alarming than any amount of brute force. And the fact that he had yet to fail only made it worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With These Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, a couple parts of this story and some of Joker's lines were inspired by _The Killing Joke_. Many thanks to the brilliant Alan Moore and Brian Bolland.

Gotham was still in pieces.

John had grown tired of seeing the desolate buildings and the destruction. The chaos and the disorder. It had taken a toll on his strength, both mentally and physically. His drive to and from work every day never failed to remind him of just how crippled Gotham and its citizens are. Thousands were still mourning the loss of their loved ones, and tens of thousands remained homeless. Gotham City, _his_ city, had faced its seemingly inevitable eradication just two months prior. But the sacrifice made by Bruce Wayne, both his personal hero and friend, had ultimately saved them all. John thought that it was a shame that the people of Gotham would never know the real identity of their hero, the Batman, but he was satisfied with the fact that at least he did. 

Truthfully, John sometimes questioned just how long it would take Gotham to return to its pre-Bane state. GCPD was still struggling to find and detain some of the Blackgate escapees, while the city’s shelters have been overpopulated for weeks. He realized soon after Bruce’s funeral that the force needed him now more than ever. His distaste for injustice and the shackles of being a detective would have to wait until Gotham was back on its feet. John had a plan, one that would allow him to leave the GCPD once and for all, but now was not the time. He needed to be a beacon of hope for the people while he was still able to before he threw all of that trust away.

And as dismal as the situation seemed, John was thankful that the League’s plan had failed. He tried not to imagine what it would be like with a city of near ten million people being wiped from existence entirely. At least the majority of the population had made it through alive and healthy, albeit impoverished. Together, they would all help rebuild Gotham as they have done many times in the past. All they needed was time.

Fortunately, there were parts of the city that weren’t in as much peril. St. Swithin’s Home for Boys was completely unharmed during the months of Bane’s rule, and John thought it to be a miracle. He had just finished up his day there helping Father Reilly move the last of their things over to their new grounds: The Martha and Thomas Wayne Home for Children. After a long day, he was finally on his way home.

 _Perhaps tonight I can finally have those few hours of rest that I’ve been wanting._ It had been over six months since he had a proper night’s sleep, or even a day off. How pleasant a week of a vacation would be right now.

A call on his radio brought him back to reality. 

“I’ve got a 10-35 at Arkham Asylum. I repeat, 10-35 at Arkham Asylum. Suspect is believed to be a patient, and is armed. All available units dispatch to Arkham immediately.” 

John picked up quickly. “10-4. On my way now.”

Naturally thinking the worst, he hightailed it all the way to Arkham Asylum. Arkham patients in general suffer from atypical types of mental illness, and John knew they could be incredibly dangerous to both themselves and to others. He was unfamiliar with the way things were handled inside Arkham, and rather preferred it that way. He was recently informed of the police effort to transfer former patients back over from Blackgate, however. He wasn’t sure why there were Arkham patients in Blackgate in the first place, but he knew better than to ask questions. John wasn’t incredibly confident in the department’s abilities to distinguish the criminally insane from the mentally insane, but he refused to step in. After a few near fatal run-ins with Bane and his men, he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself by becoming involved in the transfers. Normally he would be the first one to offer his help, but John knew that he wouldn’t be able to do anyone any good if he ended up dead. And quite frankly, he even hated responding to the few Arkham calls he received, because they never ended well. He feared this one would be the same.

John swallowed hard as he pulled up in front of the entrance to Arkham Asylum. There had to be at least twenty squad cars spread throughout the street, and twice as many officers armed and ready. He quickly spotted Gordon crouched behind the door of his car, and carefully hopped out of his own vehicle to join him.

“Blake, get over here. We’ve got a major problem.”

He shuffled towards Gordon’s car and crouched next to him, gun poised. “Gordon, what’s going on?” 

“We received a distress signal from one of the interior security suites. A patient escaped his cell and held a nurse at knife-point. We aren’t even sure of how he managed to get his hands on a knife at the moment.”

John scoffed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that still doesn't explain why half of the damn department is down here with their guns aimed at the doors. Could we perhaps be overreacting? This is an insane asylum after all, this kind of shit happens all the time.”

“You could let me finish explaining first, Detective Blake. There’s more to the story. The patient is currently holding four security officers and two nurses hostage. Security personnel refused to provide identification of the suspect over the radio, so we’re just gonna have to ID him ourselves when take him into custody. Identification of the hostages have also not been released at this time.” 

“Any idea on what the suspect’s motive might be?” John spoke without thinking.

Gordon laughed. “You haven’t handled that many Arkham cases, have you Blake? Arkham patients frequently have no motive. There are many types of patients in there. Some have minor issues, some have very major issues. But all of them are to be assumed as equally dangerous unless we have reason to believe otherwise. Quite a few of the patients locked up in there have killed people, including cops, without purpose. We can’t take any chances. We can’t risk further casualties. That’s why we’re all here.”

John tuned into the chaos that had ensued around him: officers yelling orders at each other and running frantically between squad cards. Gordon made it seem like they could be dealing with the devil, and not a single one of his fellow officers looked like they were truly prepared for who could come out of that door.

Gordon had just picked up the megaphone to attempt to negotiate again when the doors slammed open. A mad cackling came from within the shadows of the asylum. 

“Gotham City. Always brings a smile to my face.”

\--- 

That voice. He knew it belonged to Gotham’s own agent of chaos, the man that John had heard so much about just eight years ago. He was still in St. Swithin’s then, one of the few older boys left in the home before funding ran out a couple of years later. John tried not to be intimidated by this mad man, then or now, but rather incredibly curious as to what happened to drive him to the point of insanity. He knew that people didn’t just go crazy. There was always a triggering moment; John had that figured out at an early age. But there was so little known about Gotham’s maniacal mastermind that he could never even take a guess.

Standing in the entrance to Arkham Asylum, was the Joker. The Joker, Bruce’s archenemy and Gotham’s supervillain, appeared before them all with his eccentric makeup, facial scars, grimy green hair, and signature purple suit. A woman in white scrubs was being held tightly in his arms, face painted to match her captor’s makeup. She seemed terrified but thankfully unharmed. 

“Now, now, now,” the Joker spoke slowly. “Let’s not do anything rash. After all, nobody wants to see the pretty little nurse suffer, right?”

The woman in his arms started panicking frantically as the Joker tightened his grip with one arm. “Oh shh shh shh,” he told her while petting her hair. “I’m sure one of these fine officers will step in to save you, my dear.” 

John watched as Gordon swallowed hard before bringing the megaphone up to his mouth. “Joker, you have nowhere to run to. Let the girl go and we can all work something out,” he said loudly.

Joker laughed. “Ahhhh but you see, there’s nothing to work out.” He flipped his switchblade open from under his suit sleeve. “My partner in crime, my _main_ man, the Batman is dead and gone. Tsk, tsk, tsk. That was such devastating news to me, you know.”

The woman flinched and started to panic again as the Joker touched the blade to her skin. All John could do was stare, his hands mirroring the trembling of hers. The gag in her mouth muffled her screams, her fingers trying to pry the Joker’s arm off of her neck. “Cheer up, doll. Let me put a smile on that face,” his voice barely audible.

“I sat in that padded cell for eight years waiting for the right moment. Just the absolute perfect opportunity, and I missed it! We were supposed to be cellmates!” He sobbed before continuing on. “We were destined to do this forever, don’t you see? My Bats is dead and I’ve got nothing left to live for!” 

Gordon clearly wasn’t having any of it. “Joker, drop the knife and let the girl go. I don’t want to have to take you down.”

Joker cackled again. “Oh Commissioner, you couldn’t _kill_ me! We all know that. I’ve confessed that I’ve got nothing left, isn’t that what you wanted to hear? Don’t you want to take me in now and stick more wires to my head like your people have done for years? I know that’s your plan, Gordon. But you see, even though I missed the moment, I’ve found another one. I just… I get this feeling, that Batman had a plan too. Oh and you know that I do hate plans, I truly do.” He looked right at John. “Bats couldn’t just leave me hanging here, he had to have a plan!”

John matched Joker’s eye contact before he had the chance to look away. Joker raised his eyes in challenge and in that brief moment, John could tell that he was definitely not a bottomless pit of anger. Joker winked at him then, wearing a wicked grin. The air left John’s lungs in an instant, leaving him coughing and gasping for air.

“You know I can’t just let you walk away from here, Joker. I can’t do that. We’ve played this game before, and I’d like to not play it again,” Gordon continued.

“Come and get me then! Arrest me, Commissioner! Maybe I want to be caught. Mm, but do we remember what happened last time you kept me holed up at the station? I can’t promise that there won’t be a second show. The people of Gotham are just so easily corruptible!” With a release of his grip and a quick push, the woman went tumbling down the steps. 

John watched as the other officers charged up the steps toward the Joker, who simply held his arms high in surrender, knife falling to the concrete with a smile still on his face. John shook his head in disbelief. He agreed with Joker on one thing: the people of Gotham really are easily manipulated. He tried to have faith, he so desperately wanted to believe that everyone in Gotham had a little good in them. But after being deceived by _her_ for months, John threw that thought off the bridge with his badge that day. He may have his badge back for now, but his attitude towards trusting people hasn't wavered since.

“Blake! Check the victim!” 

He blinked a few times before rushing over to the woman now lying by the front of a squad car. “Are you alright ma’am?” He asked frantically. 

She sat up, rubbing her temples. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. He’s so mean to me. I try to help him out and this is how he repays me? I’ll get you back, Mr. J! I will!” 

John was beyond confused. “Mr…. J?” 

“Yes! My puddin’, my Mr. J! He’s so charming, isn’t he?”

“I’m not sure if charming is the right word...” He wasn’t even sure of what else to say. “I-I’m gonna need to take you back to the station, for questioning and your written statement.” Everyone had always been so sure that the people that Joker worked with were expendable, and yet here’s a woman that appeared to be completely infatuated with him. Maybe there was something admirable about him after all.

\--- 

On the way back to the station, John made the mistake of checking his rear-view mirror. The woman in white was running her fingers through her hair, a smile gracing her lips once she noticed that she was being watched. “What ya lookin’ at, cutie pie?”

John flinched at the pet name. "How do you know the Joker?" Honestly he wasn't even sure he wanted to know the answer.

"I took care of Mr. J after you meanies threw him in there to rot! He was all by himself in his cell and lonely and he has such a way with words..."

He sighed loudly. “Could you at least tell me your name?” John had no idea why he really needed to know. And truthfully he didn’t need to know anything; all additional information could be worked out at the station. He was having a difficult time fighting his desire to learn more about this mysterious woman, though. But something about her had him convinced that half of what would come out of her mouth would be everything but the truth. 

She giggled and batted her eyelashes. “You can call me Harley Quinn! Kinda like harlequin, but two words not one!”

Well, that’s a start. “How about your birth name? Surely it’s not Harley Quinn.” John was starting to lose his patience quickly. He was exhausted and not particularly feeling up to playing this game right now. “Your circus act is unconvincing.”

“Well aren’t you the big hotshot Mr. Detective! If you’re so good then you can figure out who I really am yourself!” She crossed her arms and plopped back against the seat, bottom lip stuck out in a full-blown pout. John had to resist the urge to smack his forehead against the steering wheel in annoyance. Neither of them said another word for the remainder of the ride to the station. 

\--- 

Gordon was waiting outside with a few other officers when John arrived at GCPD. John opened the rear door to his squad car, watching carefully as the blonde woman stepped out from the back seat. Gordon started barking orders almost immediately when he saw the state she was in. “Somebody needs to take her in and get her cleaned up. I need a positive ID on her, ASAP.” He turned to John. “Blake, I need you to come with me. I might need your help with this one.”

John started laughing nervously as they made their way into the building. “With her? I called her out on her lie and she stopped talking to me. And honestly I’ve had it up to here with difficult people today.”

Gordon opened his mouth to reprimand him for his poor attitude, but stopped to really take in John’s state. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, with heavy bags and dark circles lining his lower eyelids. His face was pale and his shoulders slumped, a sight that was hard for Gordon to swallow. He sighed before speaking this time. “John, I know you’re tired. We’re all tired.” He paused, waiting for John’s reaction. “We’re all tired, and we all want to go home. But please, right now I just need you to be here. I need your help.”

“I already told you, Gordon. I tried!” John rolled his eyes, because apparently he was going to get this lecture again. How many times did he have to−

“I’m not talking about the girl, Blake! I’m talking about the Joker. I-I can’t get anything out of him that I haven’t already heard. I need to try something new. I need a new tactic. I need something, anything useful…” 

He swallowed hard, trying to take in what Gordon just said. He caught himself staring at the floor for a while, until he heard footsteps racing down the hall towards them. “Sir! We’ve got a positive match on the Joker victim, Commissioner!” The officer looked down at his papers. “Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, psychiatric intern at Arkham Asylum.”

Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Harley… Quinn. John nearly choked on his own tongue at the realization. “You have _got_ to be kidding me! There is absolutely no way in hell that that woman is a doctor. She’s lost her damn mind! She should be locked up alongside him!” He was practically yelling now, leaving everyone else not daring to speak. John sat down on the hallway bench and took a deep breath. He really hoped that it was just the lack of sleep talking, because he needed to calm down before he got himself tossed into central holding with the rest of the night's crop. “Sorry, Commissioner. I just… I believe she might be the one responsible for releasing the Joker from Arkham. She went on about how upset she was that he pushed her down the steps after helping him out and…” He resumed looking at the floor. “And she called him her ‘puddin.’”

Gordon hummed in approval. “Get everything you can out of her. I don’t care if it’s a truth or lie, I want it all down on record. Anything new on the hostages yet?” he asked. The officer shook his head before heading off. He placed a hand on John’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. “Please John. This is a serious issue.”

John looked up at him then, the idea of Gordon having to beg him for assistance was not settling well. “What makes you think that I can get anything out of him? Why am I any different from every other cop that’s tried to interrogate him?” He was having a hard time believing that he of all people would be any help. He may be a detective now, but that didn’t mean that he knew how to talk to psychopathic murderers. 

Gordon sat down next to him, lowering his voice. “Bruce… Bruce was the only one who could truly get anything real out of him. But by that point he was already too blinded by everything that the Joker had done. He let his temper get the best of him and the Joker took advantage of his weakness. Like Bruce, you have the same passion for justice. You have felt the same pain, the same hardships. But unlike him, the Joker has nothing left to strip from you. I know that’s hard to swallow John, but you have the advantage here. I have faith that you can make him crack eventually, because he has nothing on you. Nothing to drive you to that point of such rage, such loss of control… Just give it a shot, John. Please.” 

John felt like he had just been slapped. He closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, trying not to focus on Gordon’s harsh words. _The Joker has nothing left to strip from you._ As if he needed a reminder that he had already lost everything dear to him. The loss of his parents was one thing, but being practically discarded by his foster parents simply because they didn’t – no, _couldn’t_ – understand, was another thing entirely. He sunk lower into the bench. His body tensed when Gordon’s hand returned to his shoulder, as if Gordon could somehow sense that he upset John. John knew that Gordon was only trying to motivate him, but he’d be lying if he said the truth didn’t still sting sometimes… 

After a few long moments, John sat up and stared at the wall across the hall from him. He hated feeling vulnerable. He hated that Gordon could make him feel so weak and helpless just by simply reminding him of his past. A past that he fought long and hard to forget but he never could. He sucked in a sharp breath before speaking. “I don’t know how useful I will be, but I’ll try. I want to know about him just as much as you do, Commissioner…” He trailed off, not sure what to say next. Gordon stood up then, offering John a firm hand to pull himself up. 

“Then let’s go see what we can do about that.”

\--- 

The walk to central holding seemed to take an eternity, and John was sort of glad that it did. Honestly, he was absolutely terrified now. Even being captured by Bane’s men in the sewers of Gotham couldn’t compare to this moment. Bane was truly a master of deception, all power and brilliance. But Joker… Joker was a cold-blooded killer. His ability to manipulate and pick people apart only to watch them crumble was more alarming than any amount of brute force. And the fact that Joker had yet to fail only made it worse.

As John stepped closer to the interrogation room, Joker’s hunched frame became fully visible through the two-way mirror. He closed his eyes before putting his hand on the doorknob, hoping for Gordon to give him last-minute orders. When those words never came, he knew that this was entirely up to him. He needed to swallow his fear, because it wasn’t going to get him anywhere good. Bruce may have been angry, but sure as hell wasn’t afraid. 

Joker sat up once he heard that someone had entered the room. He stared at John for what felt like a minute or so before leaping from his seat to walk towards the door. John tried to roll out of the way, but moved too slow, finding Joker’s arms straddling his upper body against the wall. He visibly tensed, hoping that someone bothered to triple-check the Joker for knives before tossing him in here. Clearly nobody thought that handcuffs would have been a good idea, either. He wondered just how far Gordon was willing to push this, fearfully acknowledging that there was a strong possibility that no one else was going to be coming through that door anytime soon. John knew he fucked up, to Joker he was an open book just begging for its pages to be ripped out and destroyed. He had to get his shit together or this session would be over before it even started. 

It wasn’t until John felt crooked fingers running along his jawline that he realized he had instinctively looked away. Joker grabbed him then, forcing John to look at the face before him. Joker growled. “Now aren’t you a pretty one. I should thank Gordon for throwing this old dog such a _delectable_ piece of meat.” John’s stomach churned at his words, and it took every ounce of his patience to resist kicking the Joker’s legs out from underneath him. This was most definitely going to be a long night. 

He steeled his expression. “I’m not really sure whether to feel disgusted or flattered, but you can cut the shit. You’re not here to throw out bad pick-up lines, and I’m certainly not here to listen to them.” Joker continued to trace a line along John’s skin, from his jaw down to his collarbone, and leaned closer. John’s breathing hitched and he was left wondering whether he was more pissed off or more uncomfortable. He opened his mouth to protest but was cut short when Joker ran his finger back up to John’s lips, resting it there as he whispered in John’s ear. _“You should feel very flattered, Detective.”_

And that was the second time in a matter of a couple of hours that John was left gasping for air. He caught his breath a few seconds later, forcing himself to work up the courage to push his way out of Joker’s hold – _but he really wasn’t holding me at all, no._ He gave himself a good six feet before he attempted to start the conversation again. “Listen, I don’t want to play the bad cop here, I really don’t. And in order to keep this as pleasant as possible, I’m not going to handle this like it has been in the past. I don’t need to know why you did this and how you did that, nor do I want to know. I just want to talk. Simple enough, right?”

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, and watched Joker’s face shift from teasing to sly. Joker started walking backwards to his chair, eyes never leaving John. He tilted backwards, putting his feet up on the table before crossing his arms. “Just talking, Detective? Hmm, I definitely had some better ideas in mind, but sure, let’s _talk_.”

John brushed off the loaded statement, knowing that this had to be quite the show for Gordon and the other guys behind the glass. He made his way over to the table in the center of the room, leaning down to make eye contact. “I don’t anticipate you to answer all of these questions, or any of them really. But I want to know some… history.”

Joker looked briefly surprised, before snapping back to his mischievous demeanor. There was a twinkle in his eye. “Well now, Detective. I’m hardly ever asked about little ol’ _me_. But you should know that I prefer my past to be multiple-choice. There are so many potentially correct answers!” 

When John leaned closer, Joker looked away. “Were you ever known by another name?” He mentally scoffed at his own question, doubting to the fullest that Joker would give him a legitimate answer. He felt like he was treading on dangerous territory. John was either going to get an immense amount of “potentially correct answers” about the Joker, or he was going to get nothing. He wanted to maintain this conversational tone with the Joker, but he didn’t know how long it was going to last. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to back down.

He waited while the Joker thought about his answer, almost as if he were considering whether or not to answer truthfully. John was about to move on to the next question when Joker looked up at him again. His eyes were full of more emotion than John had ever witnessed before. Was it regret? Pain? 

“Jack.” Joker blinked, and whatever he was showing before was gone. “But nobody has called me that in a long time, and it would be in your best interest to avoid doing so as well, _Detective_.” The way he spat the word “detective” made John flinch, and he could tell that this was clearly not something that the Joker wanted to discuss. He continued on regardless.

“So there’s a reason why you don’t go by Jack anymore.”

Joker uncrossed his arms to give a slow applause. “Very good, Detective. I see that you know how to do your job.” On any other day, John would have been insulted by a comment like that. But he just managed to get something useful out of the Joker, and no one was going to take that away from him. He could practically feel the looks of surprise from the officers outside of the room.

John was feeling brave, perhaps too brave when he pushed the Joker’s legs off of the table, causing his chair to suddenly snap to the floor. Joker leaned forward and stretched his arms out in front of him, seemingly unbothered as John sat on the edge of the table. “Where did the name ‘Joker’ come from?” John asked. He watched as Joker’s eyes trailed down his body, feeling his chest tighten at the close scrutiny. 

Joker’s gaze lingered on John’s thighs briefly before looking up slightly, eyes hooded. “How I admire your audacity, Detective,” he purred. “Since you’ve been asking so nicely, I suppose I can continue to humor you.” He licked his lips before continuing. “I wanted to be a real stand-up guy. I always thought that I was quite the comedian, but apparently my jokes weren’t very funny. People thought I was insane! They told me I was sick, completely _crazy_!” His voice trailed off until the room went completely quiet.

The silence carried on for what felt like a few minutes before it was finally broken by a knock on the door.

John stood up to leave, stopping just short of the door. “I believe that will be all for the day, thank you.” He turned the knob and left.

\--- 

He barely had the door open when officers rushed into the room, returning handcuffs to the Joker’s wrists before escorting him to an overnight cell. John stood there, stunned. He started to back away, wanting to put distance between himself and the commotion. He backed right into Gordon.

He heard Gordon clear his throat behind him, and he turned to face him. “Blake, that was… You did a great job in there. I don’t even know what else I can say.” John took a deep breath before mumbling a thank you. Gordon gave him a hug then, a _real_ hug, and John choked on the remainder of his words. This was by far one of the weirdest days he had experienced.

Gordon released his hold on John before continuing. “We’re keeping him overnight. I’d like to not send him back to Arkham because of the state that it’s currently in. Not if you can keep getting information like that out of him…”

John put his hands in his pockets. “Commissioner, why did you choose to not intervene when he pinned me against the wall? I could’ve… that could’ve ended in a completely different manner. And hell, why wasn’t he cuffed?” Despite John’s small success with interrogating the Joker, he was still highly concerned about why Gordon let things go as far as they did. “You knew I was already uneasy about the situation, and you chose to let it escalate. That isn't a risk you would normally take.”

“I thought it would be best if it seemed like you and him were on the same page, so that’s why we took the cuffs off. But do you honestly think we would have left you in there alone if it looked like you were in real danger? No. Ivan, Allan, Watts. They were all yelling at me, telling me to pull you out of there. But I refused every time, because I knew deep down that you were fine.” Gordon shifted awkwardly. “For once, I knew for sure that the Joker wasn’t going to hurt anyone. I’m not sure what you did to him Blake, but I need you to do it again.”

“So basically, you’re telling me that you need me to interrogate him again.” John saw this coming from a mile away, but he was really hoping that he was going to be wrong. “When? For how long?”

Gordon turned to leave, stopping long enough to answer. “Tomorrow morning to start. I’m not sure how long this will have to go on, but I need to get as much out of him as I can. You know how important this is, John. Go home and get some rest.”

\---

The following morning, John was up with the sun. He barely had enough time to throw himself together for the day before heading down to the station. Gordon hadn’t given him a specific time to show up last night, but he was there and well caffeinated by 8:15. 

He caught up with Gordon shortly after making it up the steps. “Here I am bright and early after sleeping like complete shit. Why do I continue to follow your orders, Jim?”

“Well aren’t you just a bowl of sunshine this morning, John. The earlier in the day we are, the bitchier you get,” Gordon teased. 

John actually chuckled at that. “Sorry. I’m just trying to find a way to handle my nerves. Fuck, I don’t _even_ get nervous.” He shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly and followed Gordon to where they were holding the Joker. John honestly had no idea what the new day would bring him. 

Gordon practically shoved him to the door, giving John his ever-so-reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’ll do marvelously. Just don’t let him rile you up.” That was clearly easier said than done of course. It was the truth though. He had to force himself to swallow the same mixture of fear that he felt last night and just get on with it.

“Let’s continue from where we left off yesterday, shall we?” John asked as he entered the room. He didn’t want to get his hopes up that today would be as successful as yesterday, but the thought never left his mind regardless. He sat down opposite of the Joker, thankful that Gordon honored his off-hand request of adding in the extra chair. Joker looked him in the eyes and gave him a wicked smile, before mouthing “sure.”

This was it. It was now or never. “Why do you hate when people call you Jack?” John closed his eyes, silently praying that he wouldn’t end up in the corner with a hand on his throat for asking such a question. He heard Joker shuffle in his chair, laughing under his breath all the while and John tensed up, knowing what was coming. But nothing could have prepared him for the words that came from across the table: “You should know all about trying to forget your past, _Robin_.”

His heart sank into his stomach. 

\---

He opened his eyes, unable to even think properly anymore as he leaned back in his chair. John couldn’t find the right words to say, and the ceiling wasn’t giving him any help either. “How… h-how…” he managed to stutter out. There was no way that the Joker could have known. He was white-knuckling the table, trying so desperately to regain his composure prior to attempting to speak again.

But he was cut off before he could even begin. “Tch. How naïve of you, Detective. I expected better from Gordon’s lap dog.” John snapped his head forward at the insult. Joker simply laughed at him. “Oh, did I strike a nerve? I may have been cooped up like a freak for eight years but I am fully aware. You think I didn’t see Gotham erupt in flames? This precious city tearing itself apart at the seams was absolutely _entertaining_! Delightful! And to think that Bats just took off like that, leaving his precious little bird here to clean up the mess…”

The room fell silent, and John couldn’t keep his anger at bay any longer. “I am no one’s _bitch_ ,” he spat as he leaned forward. He caught himself staring at the mostly faded smile painted on the Joker’s face. His makeup had worn off a bit since last night, revealing splotches of skin. Up until now, it was difficult for John to really believe that there was in fact a man under this mask. He studied the scars that trailed away from Joker’s lips and John realized that he really did want to know how they got there.

Joker stretched across the table and grabbed onto John’s tie, yanking him to within inches. “Such a shame, it would suit you so well,” he whispered before pulling him even closer. “But I do bet that you moan like one,” came even lower, lips grazing John’s earlobe. John shivered at the contact, but his skin felt like it was on fire. Hopefully he didn’t look as flushed as he felt. John knew that Gordon plastered to the glass outside, waiting to pull him out if he looked to be distressed. And John wasn't anywhere near done yet. If he didn't want to blow this, he had to keep it cool. 

He heard Joker lick his lips before continuing on. “You see, heroes and villains aren’t so different at all, really. We all have our reasons for becoming who we want to be. And we all have our _personas_ and our _masks_ , to hide who we truly are. How difficult it must have been for you to be tossed around like a ragdoll! But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t let it go. You couldn’t then and you still can’t now, Detective. Look at you, you poor little fucking _orphan_.” John felt the grip on his tie loosen and he hit the back of his chair with a loud thud. 

Pain shot through his hands as his fists clenched tighter, nails digging into calloused skin. He was fucking livid and quickly losing what little patience he had left. If he wanted to, John could have the clown face down on the floor with a knee in his back in a heartbeat. But Gordon’s words echoed in the back of his head reminding him to not go there, and he knew he had to let it go. That’s where he and Bruce differed. He refused to lose control of himself, so John crossed his arms and propped his legs up on the table, ignoring both his rage and the heat building in a place dangerously low. 

“So then what’s your sob story? Since you clearly know all about me, let’s get back to trying to out how you ended up so fucked.” Joker flinched. “I’m sorry, did _I_ strike nerve this time? Not used to having your own shit fed back to you, are you? What pushed you into madness, hm? What was it that made you go completely crazy?” He watched Joker rise from his chair and John couldn’t help but smirk. The now-empty chair crashed into the wall and the table went skidding across the room, knocking John's feet back to the ground. 

A combination of lust and anger flared in Joker’s eyes and John would have missed it if he blinked. His smirk turned into laughter. “You and I aren’t so different.” He paused briefly when he noticed that Joker was walking towards him. “But you don’t look like the type to lose it over the death of your parents.” Another pause, and then a low whisper, “I bet she was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

\---

And that was all it took. A kick to the legs of his chair and gravity pulled him to the floor. Within seconds John was pinned, face against the cold concrete and his hands held together against his lower back. Legs straddled his own, knees digging into the sides of his thighs. His whole body trembled when Joker leaned against him, a second hand digging into the back of his neck. 

Teeth grazed his skin, clenching together on a spot just below his ear. John let out a shallow breath, a damn near _whimper_ at the sharp contact. He could feel Joker’s lips move against the mark as he spoke. “My, my you have such a way with words.” The grip tightened on John’s hands. “I wonder what else your pretty little mouth can do.”

 _How fucking lewd_. And yet it all went straight to his groin. John was being betrayed by his own body and he had no idea how to control it anymore. He was pushed further into the floor, jolts of pleasure running down his spine as Joker growled in his ear. John let out something audible, unable to stop himself in time. More filth came in reply. “You sound just as appetizing as you taste.” 

This had to look just as obscene as it felt. He was so fucking embarrassed, not only by his reactions but that _everyone_ had to see this. He knew that not all of their heated conversation was loud enough for Gordon to hear, but who really needed to when the visual provided more than enough information. John also knew that he needed to get his shit together, because coming completely undone with the Joker straddling him on the floor was simply not an option. “So how did lose her? Because I know that it was your fault. And you hate yourself for it, because you fucked up, and you want everyone to feel your pain. Well guess what, it isn’t going to work on me. _I’ve already been there_.”

Another bite, this time on his ear lobe. “I suggest you watch your tongue before you lose it, Detective.” And apparently a blatant threat was all that they needed to hear. Gordon flew through the door instantly, screaming at the Joker to get off of the floor. He released his hold on John, raising his hands in surrender as he stood up. John scrambled to the corner, watching as his coworkers stormed the room to take the Joker away again. He pulled his knees to his chest and let out a groan. Gordon rushed to the corner where John now sat and crouched to face him.

“Jesus I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that he was actually hurting you.” His voice was soaked with regret. “I shouldn’t have made you do this, I put you in immediate danger… Goddamn it, John I didn’t think he would hurt you I really thought that−” John sank his face into his hands before rubbing them into his hair. He had heard enough.

“He didn’t fucking hurt me, Jim. Please stop with the hysterics. At no point during that was I in any real danger,” he choked down a sob before lowering his voice. “At least not in the traditional sense.” He was so ashamed of himself for what he was feeling. Well truthfully, he didn’t really know what he was feeling anymore. All he knew for sure was that it was wrong, and it definitely wouldn’t be leading him to anything good.

There was silence for a second while Gordon tried to process what was just said. “What do you mean not in the traditional−” and John knew that it hit him. It him like a brick fucking wall and there was nothing he could do to take it back.

“Oh,” was all he heard.

\---

Nothing was said for a while, almost as if both of them were trying to come up with a response. Gordon broke first. “I…” John cringed at the disgust in his voice. “I’m going to send him back to Arkham. This has become too risky of an investigation to continue to carry it out here.” 

John lifted his head from his lap at Gordon’s insinuation. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Just what the fuck are you trying to say, Commissioner? That I can’t carry out what’s expected of me anymore?” He slowly rose from the floor, never breaking eye contact. He was pissed, and quite frankly disappointed that Gordon didn’t have more faith in him than this. Just because he lost control momentarily… 

Gordon stood to face him again. “Yes, John. I’m taking you off the case. I don’t think you’re in the right state of mind for this any longer.” John closed the gap between him unable to wipe the glare off of his face. “I’ll have to have someone else go in and see what they can do. As helpful as all of this was, as much as we found out… I can’t... I-I just−“

“You can’t fucking what, Commissioner? You know what I don’t get? How you’re willing to throw away all of the progress that we made simply because I got pinned to the floor.” Gordon tried to interrupt him, but John already knew what was coming. “No, don’t. You can think whatever you want beyond that but I know what state of mind I’m in,” he lied. _I actually have no damn clue_. “I’m not letting you take me off of this case. I can do this. You just need to believe that I can.”

The man looking back at him was not the same person that was there a few minutes ago. “Are you telling me that you’re willing to risk disobeying direct orders? You have no power to overrule my decision. This case _will_ be reassigned and you _will_ adjust your attitude, Detective.” John scoffed. _Not the first time I’ve heard that today_. 

“Are you shitting me, Jim? You’ve seen what I’ve done and you know what I can do. We’ve been through hell and back trying to protect this city and just because you THINK that I’ve had a ‘moment’ you’re taking what I damn well earned away from me?” He was practically shouting now and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. I didn’t even want to be in this position in the first place and it was you that asked me to do this. You put my life on the line and now you're just going to shrug that off and move on? You couldn’t even hear half of what was said!”

A warning. “John, I’m giving you once last chance to calm down. Don’t test me.”

“No, I’m not calming the hell down because this is such bullshit. So you can say ever you want to me. Go ahead.”

Gordon sighed, clearly not wanting to say what he was about to. “Then you’re temporarily suspended until this case is closed. You can keep your badge and your gun, but if I so catch you anywhere near this building or Arkham Asylum while this investigation is ongoing, we’re going to have words. Now get the hell out of my building and go home, John.”

\---

He had been suspended before. Back when John was in school, it was a common occurrence for him to get into fights, talk back to teachers, or skip class. He had a lot of little red Xs on his record that followed him throughout his education. As much as he would deny it back then, he could easily admit now that he was in fact a total shit in school. John really was just that angry little kid. There was always a good reason for why he got sent to the principal’s office. But today the man that he could almost call a father figure sent him home from his job all because of a suspicion. And that hurt.

John didn’t even know what to do with himself. Catch up on sleep maybe, but then what? Perhaps he could spend his days continuing to help Father Reilly get situated. John knew how much of a hassle those boys could be because he was one of them once. And then there’s his inheritance from Bruce, which he can’t bring himself to handle yet. It’s the greatest gift he never asked for, one that he didn’t feel that he deserved. Clearly Bruce had a different opinion. John knew he would get there. He just couldn’t handle the responsibility right now.

And that’s how John spent the first week or so. It felt great to get out and do something besides talk to Gordon or respond to calls on his police radio. He had forgotten how nice it was to be an actual human being instead of the 24/7 detective robot that he was most of the time. But then he remembered why he always buried himself in his work. 

Playing with the kids during the day was fine. Perfect, even. At night, alone in his apartment and completely bored was another story. John hated to be by himself, he truly did, because his mind was always racing. Around people he could keep himself distracted but everything came crashing down when he was alone. Every single time.

Tonight was no different. He was staring at the ceiling when his foster parents came to visit him, telling him again and again that they were sorry. That maybe he’ll understand when he’s older. Yeah, right. John closed his eyes, trying to think of something else. He heard screams coming from an even younger version of himself from the day he found out his dad had been shot. Loud, ugly sobs after the funeral when he was being shoved into a car, an official ward of the state. 

John punched his couch before scrambling to grab the remote to his television. He needed to hear voices other than the ones in his own head. He clicked through channel after channel before stopping on the news. The headline story caught him completely off guard. There was no way in hell that it was true.

“Good evening. We’ve got breaking news from the Gotham City Police Department. The list of lives taken by the mob increases tonight as we reveal the positive identification of last night’s victim, psychiatric intern at Arkham Asylum, Dr. Harleen Quinzel. There’s no word yet on what exactly happened here, but it’s our promise to give you the latest when we get it!”

Oh, Gordon really fucked up now. 

\---

“She’s dead because you didn’t let me do my fucking job, Jim!” John had barely been out of bed for 15 minutes and he was already yelling. “I beg you, please put me back on this case. Joker’s got ties to the mob, they probably heard he escaped and wanted to find a way to tidy up their unfinished business.” He paused, listening to the rambling on the end. “And why didn’t that occur to you before now? See what happens once you kick the hothead out of your office, old man?”

A click on the other end with no goodbye. John tossed his phone on his bed and sighed. _If you want something done right, you do it yourself_. He knew how stupid of an idea this was. It was an absolutely terrible idea, one that was going to get him into even more trouble. But for some reason unbeknownst to him, Gordon let him hang onto his badge. And he was going to use it. John never really was one to follow rules anyway. 

He had managed to keep himself from thinking about this case for the most part up until now. He could distract himself enough during the day to not think about it. But as soon as John stepped foot inside of Arkham Asylum, it hit him like a freight train. He knew he would be completely defenseless in here. John was no longer on his territory, no longer able to count on someone coming in to break it up if things got too rough. Hell he wasn’t even an active duty officer at the moment. He was walking straight into a trap, and yet none of that stopped him from stepping up to the front desk.

The security officer glanced up from his newspaper and John flashed his badge. “Detective John Blake with the Gotham City Police Department. I’m here to speak with the Joker.” He received a quizzical look in return before being escorted to where they were apparently keeping the Joker. Three floors up, the officer pointed towards the end of the hall without taking another step. He told John the number combination for the door, explaining frantically that he refused to walk any further. 

Slowly he punched the four-digit combination into the keypad and turned the knob when the door unlocked. The room was pitch black, and John knew instantly that the beeping from the keypad had blown his cover. He barely got a leg into the room before he was pulled into the darkness. His back hit the door and it slammed shut, the familiar click of the lock coming not long after. John felt a body press up against him, a rough hand splayed across his collar bone and the cool sensation of sharp metal grazed the side of his neck. 

The spine of the blade traced lines on his skin. “I knew you would come and visit me, Detective.” 

“John. I’m not here on police orders, so don’t address me as such,” he snapped, pulling himself away from the door and the Joker. “Harley Quinn is dead. That’s why I’m here. Who was she to you?”

“Why do you keep ruining my fun?!” Joker sighed in annoyance and flipped the switch on the wall. The sudden light forced John’s eyes closed, and he gave himself a few seconds before he opening them again. What he saw when he opened them couldn’t have been further from what he was expecting. He was standing in a room that what could almost be called cozy. The walls and floors were still hospital white but it was far from feeling sterile.

John laughed nervously. “I wasn’t aware that Arkham had a penthouse suite.” He felt stupid for trying to make awkward conversation, but it was all he could manage. Joker turned to face him and John would have sworn that he almost swallowed his own tongue at the sight. He stumbled over his words, coming up with something completely incoherent. “Wh-where…,” was what came out.

“Tsk tsk tsk, did you really think that I would let them keep me in a tiny white cubicle for the rest of my life? All it takes is a little threat here and there, and you’ll have these people practically eating out of your hands!” John was having a difficult time paying attention because the only thing he was able to focus on was the fact that Joker’s hair was no longer green and his suit was no longer purple. It was hardly even a suit, just a gray oxford and black pinstripe pants. 

“See something you like?” John felt his face go red. “Even a freak like me has to dry clean their suits every once in a while. Take a seat, let’s _talk_ ,” he added, motioning to the chairs surrounding the table in the middle of the room. John sat across from the Joker, unable to pry his eyes away from his oxford. If he wasn’t fucked before, he realized that he definitely was now. 

\---

He rubbed his hands on his thighs. “Who was Harley Quinn?” he asked, repeating his question from earlier. “I know the mob killed her trying to get to you. You must be so proud.” Tossing out insults and staying angry was the only way John was going to be able to make it through this conversation. It was the only emotion he knew wasn’t going to betray him.

Joker crossed his arms, the fabric of his shirt clinging even tighter to his chest. John shifted awkwardly in his chair, earning him a low laugh from across the table. “Harley grew too attached to me. Like a blood-sucking little leech. Because of her I was able to escape, only to get myself thrown back in by the likes of you and your master.” He winked and John had to look away. He closed his eyes, screaming to himself that this was unfair, that this was totally fucking wrong in every way possible.

It was already too late when he realized that he just fucked up, _majorly_ , and Joker had caught him red-handed. Within seconds he was out of his chair and standing directly behind John, arms propped on the back of the chair. The distance closed between them and he knew what was coming… “What’s the real reason behind why you came here today, John? Are you here to get your fix? You can’t stay away, can you?” Joker’s voice was borderline obscene and John gripped the bottom of his chair. 

Every word made his skin prickle and he couldn’t stand it, it was too much. But the obscenities just kept coming. “You _hate_ that I remind you of just how much of a freak you really are, don’t you? You can’t hide when you’re around me and you _hate_ it. And yet here you are, coming completely undone just from the sound of my voice.” Hands ran parallel down his chest and John’s grip on his chair was slackening. “I can give you exactly what you want, John. But you’re going to beg for it first.”

John couldn’t listen to it anymore, it was such bullshit and he was beyond done. He was tired of it being all about his weaknesses and his problems. He stood up, yanking the hands off his chest and twisting himself around. “No, this isn’t how this is going to fucking work.” He charged at Joker, slamming him back into the wall. “Let me tell you what I _know_ you don’t want to hear. There’s only one difference between you and I. Do you want to know what that is?” John brought his right hand up to Joker’s face, digging his fingers into the makeup. “ _This_. I’m tired of this, because this isn’t you. If I can’t hide behind my so-called wall, then you sure as hell can’t hide behind yours. And that’s why you’re going to take it off. All of it.” 

He felt Joker’s body tense up at his request, but he made no effort to move. His hands trembled as he pushed Joker harder into the wall. “Now, damn it! Wipe it the fuck off!” He heard his own voice crack and he turned to step away. John knew he wasn’t wrong, he just _had to be right._

There was absolute silence for a few minutes, and John felt his heart sink. He didn’t want to turn around, he really didn’t. He had to choke down a sob, because he was pissed. So pissed because he made himself look like an idiot, a damn fool and it was embarrassing. John realized that he should just go and get out before he ends up digging himself a deeper hole. He was mid-step when he heard it, and it stopped him dead in his tracks.

The undeniable sound of a fist going through a wall.

A loud sob followed by a quieter, “Fuck!”

Scrambling for something. 

Anything.

\---

John backed himself into the wall, no longer able to trust his body to keep him upright. He refused to open his eyes. He didn’t want to look yet. He couldn’t, no matter how badly he needed to. 

Footsteps inched closer, stopping right in front of him.

A thud as Joker’s hands hit the wall on either side of John’s head.

After a deep breath, John faced the man before him. He opened his eyes and immediately felt the air leave his lungs. “Oh God” left his mouth before he could even think about stopping it. He saw Joker visibly deflate at his words and John cringed, because he knew. He knew and it hurt, and he didn’t even know what to say. So he said nothing, instead opting to reach out and pull Joker closer. John gently touched his face, thumbing the scars. 

“They’re ugly, aren’t they?” John shook his head, trying to force out a "no" but his mouth wouldn’t open. He heard Joker’s fists hit the wall again. “Don’t lie to me! They’re hideous, completely disgusting, I know! A constant reminder of the life that was ripped out from underneath me. I tried to show her that I didn’t care but she couldn’t stand the sight of me anymore. _And neither can you_.” 

It took every bit of John’s strength to keep himself from crumpling to the floor. Words still failed him. He hoped that his actions would say what he couldn’t. He wrapped his arms around the back of Joker’s neck, leaning in to leave a trail of kisses down the tainted skin on his face. John heard him start to sob and the sound completely shattered the silence in the room. This man was not a monster. He had suffered through pain, anger, and hatred, and lost the one person that he thought believed in him. The world was cruel to him, and became someone whose last resort was to inflict rage upon anyone that stood in his way. 

“I once said that I could never kill him, because it was simply too much fun trying to corrupt the truly incorruptible… I called him my equal, but I was wrong.” He trailed off, slipping his arms around John’s waist. “Bruce Wayne, billionaire orphan.” John sucked in a sharp breath when he heard Bruce’s name. How long had he known that Bruce was Batman? “And I see now why he picked you. Because you could understand when he couldn’t.” The hands on John’s waist gripped tighter as Joker pushed closer. John could feel his skin heating up, and his heart was all but racing now. He knew exactly where this was going to end up… 

“But you’re mine now, little bird, and I’m going to make sure that everyone knows it,” Joker purred, voice an octave lower and full of lust. John’s body arched in a way he didn’t previously think was possible at those words, cursing everything that had ever come out of that filthy mouth. That was apparently cue enough, because John’s hands ended up pinned above his head before he could even blink. Something warm and deliciously wet was lapping at his jaw and he had to stifle his moan because it was just _too_ good.

With his free hand, Joker started fumbling with the buttons on John’s shirt. “Ah, ah, ah John. I want to hear you,” Joker warned. Nails scraped down his now-exposed chest and John rolled his hips, seeking desperately needed friction. He felt teeth grazing everywhere they could reach before there was a sharp pain right above his collarbone. He flinched at the sensation, earning more rough little nips.

“F-fuck,” left his mouth before he managed to close it. 

Joker traced circles with his tongue on John’s skin, pausing momentarily to mouth at his left nipple. He let out a sharp cry, unable to control himself anymore. It was incredible, absolutely erotic and John wanted more. He wanted everything that Joker was willing to give, and he was going to do whatever it took. And who knows where that may lead… But John knew one thing for sure.

It was time to turn the tables.

\---

John slipped his hands free of Joker’s grip with ease, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the confused look he received in return. With a quick shift, John was now the one with all of the power. He was fast, _too fast_ , and not gentle in the slightest. A sharp yank and Joker’s shirt was completely ripped, the look on his face still incredulous. John laughed again, lower this time as he tugged the offending article off before tossing it over his shoulders.

A breathy sigh escaped his throat as he leaned forward to crush their bodies together again. “You would be surprised at how many times I’ve had to pull myself out of a death grip,” he whispered, letting his fingers brush down the side of Joker’s neck. “You see…” John trailed off, pressing his lips to the shell of Joker’s ear. “It’s all about making them _feel_ like they have power over you. And just when they start to feel like they do, you show them who’s really in control.” All it took was one little nip and oh, did he enjoy the response. He heard the thud of Joker’s head hitting the wall in sync with a loud cry of sheer ecstasy that now echoed throughout the room. John felt his knees go weak at the sound, and it was by far the hottest thing he had ever heard.

God, he so needed more of this. John kept repeating that to himself like a mantra as he left deep red marks on Joker’s skin. His breathing was staggered and raspy, and John found himself trying not to stumble over his words as his hands worked open the button on Joker’s pants. “Look at you, writhing and moaning like a bitch in heat. And I do believe that it suits you far better than it does me,” he growled, remembering every damn word that Joker had whispered to him that day. 

There was a strong grip at the base of his throat now that was leading him backwards away from the wall. A few long strides later and Joker practically threw him towards the bed, promptly removing John’s shirt completely before his back hit the sheets. He clawed at John’s pants while he kicked off his own until they too ended up on the floor. He straddled John’s hips, wrapping his legs underneath the other man’s thighs. 

Joker leaned down to tug at John’s lip. “How badly do you want it?” His voice was dangerously low and full of lust, and John realized that this was apparently how this was going to go down. Both of them were too dominant to be submissive for long and the very thought left John more turned on than he had ever been.

Unsatisfied with the lack of a response, Joker repeated his question. “Tell me, John,” emphasizing his name with a quick thrust of his hips. “How badly do you want it? I want you to beg me for it.” He pressed his hips down harder, earning a loud whine from John. “That’s it, John. You’re so greedy, so impatient… I want you to be good for me. Be good and maybe I’ll reward you.” John arched his back at those words, pushing their clothed erections together. The sensation ripped a loud moan out of one of them – maybe both of them, neither knew for sure.

Joker held John’s hands above his head, pinning them to the pillow. “You’re never going to last long enough for me to fuck you properly, are you?” This man was filthy, absolutely filthy and he drove John absolutely insane. How can someone say such things while remaining so calm? “Fine, we can make this quick. Just for you, _darling_.” He leaned down to lap at John’s nipples, thrusting his hips against the other man’s.

John couldn’t contain his moans anymore and he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to if this is what he got in return. “Please… l-let me touch you,” he pleaded. Joker looked annoyed, but he released John’s hands anyway and they immediately clung to his back. John was close, and he was as well, so he began to move faster, whispering more obscenities against his skin.

“God, you’re such a good boy. Wait until you hear all of the things I want to do to you…” he trailed off, enjoying the sounds that filled the room. “That’s right, moan for me. I want you to come for me, baby.” John was more than willing to comply, nails digging further into Joker’s back. He yelled as they both came together, slowly thrusting until they collapsed. After a minute or two of silence, Joker laid down next to John and started at the ceiling.

The silence was definitely a little awkward, but John couldn’t bring himself to say anything yet. Whatever he just got himself into he knew he would never be able to walk away from. While he was comfortable admitting that he knew who the Joker was, he knew very little about the man lying next to him. He had a good feeling that was about to change though.

John’s phone vibrated in the pocket of his discarded jeans. He quickly sat up wondering who would possibly be calling him. And then he paid attention to the ringtone. He shook his head and plopped back down next to Joker; he would have to deal with Gordon later.

Joker turned to face him. “Aren’t you going to get that? He’s probably worried sick since his precious puppy dog ran away.”

John heard the insult in his tone, but he knew that Joker was smiling anyway. He chuckled awkwardly. “Well, this is certainly not what I was expecting when I came by today.”

A pair of lips brushed his cheek, leaving just as quickly as they came.

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises,” Joker laughed.

John couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading everyone! I hope you enjoyed it :D  
> I'm on Tumblr! You can follow me here: [heartandseoulx](http://heartandseoulx.tumblr.com)


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